journalcont

April 2002

Today Nan , Marie, taught me how to play gin rummy. We played for hours. Not much else to do when your playing partner can�t hear a word you say. Strangely, though, she was well aware of my wins. She couldn�t hear what I was saying but my dancing and smiling led here to believe that my game was not so bad! Now I kick ass!
NAN BEWARE there�s a new kid on the card playing block.
Bridge is next!

END OF APRILL 2002

I�m lost here in my own little shell. My body seems to have completely forgotten my head. Simply put I�ve lost it.
Today was spent cleaning out an old shed. Twenty years of books, toys, and clothes; memories were to be tossed into the evergreen dumpster. Shovel by shovel an adult�s youth was thrown way. It was not my stuff. I was not hoping to find my long lost Malibu Barbie or Donny Osmond�s other purple sock. I was here helping a friend make space for a �workroom.� I felt nothing for this pile of youthfully spent historical trinkets. It all looked like trash to me. My job was to pull my gloves on and get to work redistributing and transforming old �stuff� into dumpster destined trash. Yet my heart began to ache. That�s not my old Atari, or pink bicycle. Who studied chemistry with that warped wet book? Did that skateboard deck belong to Chris or Mark? Nothing here was representative of my youth but my head still spun. I felt irrationally compelled to demonstrate my worth before I too found my way to the dump!
I, like those old toys have been well used and some day I feel a bit broken. Everyday I move further away from cool and closer to retro. I needed to find a purpose STAT!
It was during this spring cleaning chaos that I decided to make lunch.

I tossed up a Caesar salad garnished with red bell peppers spiraled out like on a wagon wheel on the top of the salad. I alternated cucumber and onion circles along the outer edge. I made sure the interior held plenty of avocadoes, tomatoes, feta and Parmesan cheese and good portions of Caesar dressing. On top where the spoke from the red peppers met I placed a large portion of chicken; which had been saut�ed with garlic, olive oil, and red peppers. This was to be the meal! However I decided to oven roast baby red potatoes in olive oil, garlic, more red pepper, feta and Parmesan cheese. For the meat we had lemon butter saut�ed salmon.
For a moment there was silence��.
We sat and we ate then every thing returned to its chaotic normalcy, and you'll find me at the curb! will find me at the cur

April 28, 20

Well apparently the city does not pick up its trash on Sunday. I hobbled back to the home, but things had not changed. There was still a weird tension in the air. Perhaps it was just the Florida heat or echoes of our nation�s discomfort and confusion in regards to its role in the world. I don�t know! I just needed to get out of the house. So I threw on my backpack and trounced out the door.
I had no set plan and no idea as to how I would spend my day, so I made the local bookstore my destination. A short bus ride and a long walk brought me to Barnes & Noble. Along the way I met a forty something year old man wearing the uniform of all Floridian seniors; Hawaiian shirt, khaki grass stained shorts, white tube socks which had been reinforced at the toe, and blue Nike sandals. I was wearing the same style shoe! So he felt drawn to me. I however lacked the fragrance that so reminded me of my youth de Perfume Busch.
He graciously walked me to the bookstore where we parted ways. I too eagerly said goodbye. He said I was �purdy.� It was a short but somewhat sweet romance. If only all the men in my life were so easy to deal with, so accommodating.
My main squeeze, today, decided to out ass every known donkey in town. He was not the lovable mule who pulls tourist around the downtown lake while wearing carnations round his neck and a cute straw hat on his head. He was the hardheaded ASS who shits every ten steps to the vexation of all those around him, and earlier I had met this jackass for breakfast.
All seemed to go well. We bought the Sunday paper and ordered our meal. Each of us feeling more P.M. than A.M. ordered turkey clubs on wheat. These were easily made meals. Lunch arrived in no time. Meanwhile to avoid actually speaking to each other we read the paper. This edition was stuffed full of advertisements, fluff pieces, and if you had the energy to look news. We ate and read in silence, except for the occasional joke to our easily amused waitress. This sounds odd to any newlywed, but after ten years this was our breakfast norm, but then I took my last bite and he read his last sentence.
SHIT! We did not want to spend the day together and neither of us wanted to be the first to say so. We needed a break! Not the permanent �cry to your girlfriend� type more the �get out of my hair� variety. After a heated argument about nothing we parted ways.
I went to see Jason X. Yes, It was awful but it did kill some time and devour a small amount of money, just enough to remind me that I don�t usually pay my own way at the theater.
The two and a half hours spent watching a serial killer mutilated nubile young men and women mixed with the hour spent with a homeless smelly Floridian was enough to make me miss my tiresome but loveable jackass at home.
That night we had a lovely dinner��.

May 3, 2002

Sadness,
In short burst it can be relieving, as in a good cry, but what do you do when the blues don�t vanish when the tears have dried up? Some people see the local �head doctor� and get a much need prescription, usually the free samples the lovely pharmacy company rep has just left. Others self medicated in the questionable company of the spicy Captain Morgan. Often these remedies just don�t work! You end up with a piercing headache and the tremors! What�s an emotional wreck to due?
Recently I have helped cared for my cancer-ridden mother and a family friend. Both of these women faced death and pain on a daily basis and found it difficult to adequately express their feelings. Often their misery was expressed in whiny outbursts and the inability to say �thank you� when given assistance in the daily chores they could no longer do themselves. I know that they were not just being ornery, that they were riding an emotional roller coaster of extreme grief, anger, disappointment, and sadness. I was on the same ride, but this overwhelming grief created unbearable tension and those who were sick grew more distant and withdrawn from those who were not. How can people so separate in circumstance, their health, be so alike in their emotional well being? I had no answers so I suggested therapy. Both were not overly keen on the idea. After all who wouldn�t be pissed off about being sick? I, however, could bear it no more and needed to force levity into the situation.
That�s when I turned to TABLOIDS! Every week when I bought groceries I would slyly read the headlines; Cruise and Cruz are dating, Jennifer wants Brad to stop smoking pot, Clinton has another fling with sexy employee, Jennifer Lopez and her ass! These were newsworthy events according to Star, Enquirer, and the Globe. Reading about celebrities who diet and what they wore to self-aggrandizing award shows became my way to cope with my �real� problems. If the petty arguments between Hollywood ing�nues and their beaus was acceptable behavior, then my feelings about my sick mother and friend were also completely understandable. I quickly made a habit of buying the weekly tabloids and sharing them with both of them. For some reason reading about celebrities and their silly exploits made them forget their lives and laugh. May continues..........